Double Vision
by sendintheclowns
Summary: Sam is beset by visions and Dean can’t help but worry over his brother. Featuring a little h/c along with a hunt that literally lands on their doorstep. S1, post Nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sam is beset by visions and Dean can't help but worry over his brother. Featuring a little h/c along with a hunt that literally lands on their doorstep. S1, post Nightmare.

A/N: I whipped together a little something to honor my good friend Bayre's birthday. Gidgetgal9 provided the speedy beta and also wishes this special gal a supper happy b-day.

Double Vision

Part One

Dean could feel it in his bones, their luck was about to change. A heavy thud on the other side of the wall—the bathroom—quickly dispelled Dean's thoughts on luck. "Sam!"

Dean knew he should've grabbed Sam and headed for Vegas after Saginaw. Not because he wanted to put Sam's new skills of precognition through its paces on the gaming floor but because they needed a break. Especially Sam. Dean didn't think the kid had smiled since the whole thing with Max Miller had started up.

Of course there hadn't been much to smile about since they left Saginaw. Or before it for that matter. But Dean would gladly pin it on Las Vegas; Nevada was too far away at the moment but Dean had plotted a course for Cleveland—a visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame would work nicely as a distraction and it was just a half a day's drive. Too bad the Impala had decided it was time to act up. They'd made it to Fremont before the engine started coughing and Dean had exited I-80 to find a place to hunker down so he could fix their suddenly temperamental ride. Apparently the Impala thought it needed a break, too.

That would have been bad enough but then they'd been stuck in traffic while firefighters fought an apartment blaze and they had a ringside seat for the event. Black plumes of smoke funneled into the sky while flames danced up and down the façade of the building. Good times…not. Especially since the Winchesters had a long and storied relationship with fire and being stuck next to one was getting on Dean's last nerve. Sam hadn't fared any better, his legs restlessly shifting in the passenger seat, his eyes locked on the building, his harsh breathing filling the silence in the car.

Wanting to get Sam away from the smoke and memories, Dean bypassed a Comfort Inn and continued down the road. A sign for the Double A Motel loomed ahead and they practically coasted into the parking lot, the engine stuttering. Sam continued with the silent treatment throughout the registration process and Dean took special note of the way his brother rubbed the middle of his forehead several times. The events of the last few days were definitely catching up with Sam and it looked like they'd be riding things out in Fremont. What a waste.

Another loud thump on the wall sounded as Dean crossed the avocado colored carpeting—maybe that's what one of the A's in Double A stood for—as he raced for the bathroom door. He rapped his knuckles on the thin plywood door, just this shy of frantic. "Sam! You okay in there?"

There was no answer but the door shot inward, Sam stumbling out, colliding hard with Dean. "Oomph."

Sam was a sickly shade of green, not unlike the carpeting, and Dean's plans for a quick lunch at McDonald's flew out the window. "Stomach?"

Latching on to the sleeves of Dean's leather jacket, Sam's dazed eyes lifted to meet Dean's. "Vision."

It looked like their streak of bad luck was intact. Dean clutched Sam's shoulders and guided him back toward one of the double beds, hoping he could get him there before his legs gave out.

Not quick enough. Sam's skin washed from green to bone-white as his legs folded, his weight falling completely against Dean's chest.

Dean knew better than to ask Sam questions while he was in the throes of a vision. Sam hadn't had many of them but Dean knew from the little experience he'd had watching Sam, his brother was locked on pictures of the near future only he could see and he was oblivious to the present. Instead Dean tipped Sam back on to the bed, guiding his torso until he sprawled on his back, long legs stretched before him, feet still on the floor.

The stillness didn't last as Sam's legs began to jitter and the heels of his feet bounced up and down on the floor. It was the eyes rolling back in Sam's head that pushed Dean into panic. This wasn't anything like the visions Sam had experienced with the Millers. Dean's hand was dipping into the inside pocket of his jacket, grabbing the phone; a call to 911 wasn't out of the question.

Dean had his thumb on the nine; convinced Sam was having a seizure, when Sam bolted upright into a sitting position. The cell phone flew from Dean's hand as Sam's head made contact with his arm. "Easy, Sam."

-0-

A headache had been creeping over Sam since they left Saginaw but he hadn't wanted to take anything for it; it seemed like he did nothing but swallow down aspirin and Tylenol these days and he was trying to give his stomach a break. Now he wished he hadn't been so stubborn.

He was drying his face on the scratchy motel issue towel in the bathroom, trying not to keep Dean waiting, when the pain streaked across his forehead and wrapped around the back of his head. He could almost feel the blood vessels shrinking violently, and then expanding in time to his heartbeat. He'd somehow made it out of the bathroom and Dean had guided him toward the bed.

_A wall of fire separated him from Dean. Dean's face was a rigid white mask. Except for his eyes which were rolling in terror and his mouth which was opened wide, a rictus of pain and suffering—_

_Sam! Sammy!!!_

_Sam struggled to get to Dean but he was locked in place. This couldn't be happening. He'd just lost Jess and now Dean…no, Dean wouldn't die. His brother would be okay. Dean was always there for him, he wouldn't leave him this way, not the same way as Jess and his mom._

_Sam blinked his eyes to clear them but it was getting harder to see Dean through the wriggling flames in front of him. He could no longer make out the features of Dean's face but his brother's body was drawn up in a tight line as it wavered and melted behind the smoke._

_Deannnnnn!_

"Shhh, it's okay, Sam. Just breathe through it. Everything will be okay."

Strong arms held him up, held him tight. The rocking motion only agitated him; nothing would be okay—Dean and the fire and…

"Damn it, Sam, quit struggling and open your eyes already. Tell me what you saw."

The impatience reached Sam; Dean always was more impatient than him. Dean who was going to leave him if he couldn't figure out how to save him.

"Not okay. It's not. You're gonna…and the flames…we've got to stop it!" Sam knew he wasn't making any sense but he couldn't get his brain to cooperate. With the other visions he'd been slow and sluggish but he didn't have the luxury of time right now. He had to make Dean understand. Save Dean…

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. You need to settle the hell down right now, Sam. You're gonna stroke out or something if you keep this up." Dean's voice was right next to his ear but Sam's vision was still blurry and he couldn't see what Dean was doing.

Pain throbbed hard and fast behind his eyeballs and he whimpered. He didn't mean to—he didn't want to worry Dean—but it just slipped out.

Sam heard the rustle of Dean's leather jacket and then Dean was moving away from him. "No, don't, the fire…we have to save you." Sam thrashed on the bed, trying to find his balance, trying to push to his feet. Ignoring the sharp jabs of pain at the base of his head.

A hand on his shoulder pushed him back to the bed. "Knock it off, Sam. Here, take these."

Pills were pushed into his hand but when he was too slow to hold them, Dean gave a frustrated huff and then cradled Sam's cheek. "Open up. Good. Now swallow the water."

Sam only complied because the pills were preventing him from talking and he needed Dean to understand that he was in danger. Sam hadn't been able to save Max but he would save Dean. He had to save Dean.

The mattress sunk under Dean's weight and Sam turned, clinging to his arms. If he squinted he could make out Dean's face; eyes shining brightly while deep lines furrowed grooves into the pale skin around his mouth. "You don't understand, there's no time. We have to go. Dean!"

Sam was crushed against Dean's chest, a tight band around his back. "I mean it, Sam. Settle down. You're gonna burst a blood vessel or something."

Trying to pull away, Sam found himself more firmly entrenched against Dean. The arm against his back tightened, hand digging into his waist, while the other hand guided Sam's head to Dean's shoulder.

His breathing was loud in his own ears and he understood why Dean was concerned; he sounded like an asthmatic, his lungs wheezing as they heaved to suck in oxygen. Sam told his body to relax; he needed Dean to listen to him and his brother wouldn't until Sam calmed down. Dean always put Sam first. Ever since they were kids.

Sam didn't know how long he was perched on Dean's shoulder but when he finally got his breathing and heart rate under control, he realized his eyes were drooping. It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Don't fight it, Sammy. Just relax."

No, Sam had to fight it. He needed to fight for Dean. Save him from the fire. He struggled weakly, pathetically, but Dean wouldn't relinquish his grip. "We have to figure out my vision. Can't sleep."

"We'll figure it out, together. I'll wake you up in a little while, okay?" Sam didn't want to agree but his body wasn't giving him a choice. It was weighted down. Lethargic.

As a hand tumbled through the hair at the nape of Sam's neck, Sam tumbled headlong into sleep.

-0-

Sam had finally relaxed and Dean allowed himself to relax a little, too. He dipped his head down and rested it lightly on Sam's head, his brother's soft hair tickling his nose.

Sometimes Sam accused Dean of smothering him but when the kid pulled shit like this; it was hard not to fuss. In a manly way of course.

First Sam had suffered what looked like a seizure and then he'd turned agitated. Dean supposed he'd been talking about his vision, spouting stuff about a fire and Dean and having to save him. Dean didn't want to die in a fire anymore than Sam wanted him to but right after the vision, Sam had been the one in distress.

Sam's face had flamed a bright, tomato red. The veins at Sam's temples, the ones that usually ticked in agitation when Dean picked on him, had beaten a wild tattoo. His breathing had been out of control, loud and wheezing and scary as hell. Worst of all, Dean knew Sam's head was aching; it was there in the stiff set of his neck and shoulders, the tightness of his face.

Dean had been lucky he had some prescription pills, pilfered from a stop at a clinic when he was still with his dad, tucked in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. The good stuff. Something that would knock Sam on his ass for a while. Just long enough to get him to calm down. Long enough to get the pain in his head under control. Sam had easily submitted to taking the pills but then it had been like wrestling a crocodile while Dean waited for them to take effect.

It took longer than Dean had liked but the pills finally kicked in. His breathing was calm, steady and measured.

Dean wanted to go out to their car and grab some of their stuff. Like their laptop. When Sam woke up, Dean knew he'd want to research whatever it was that he saw in his vision. Then they needed to be ready to go mobile because Dean wasn't going to let himself burn up in a blaze anymore than Sam was going to let it happen. They'd run like hell in the other direction. Once they figured out what direction the threat was coming from.

Easing Sam back, Dean laid him across the bed. It took more effort to finagle his long legs on to the mattress but he managed, Sam's head even rested on a pillow comfortable while Dean wiped at the sweat dampening his brow. Kid definitely needed looking after.

Taking a step toward the door, Dean paused when Sam twitched on the bed. Dazed hazel eyes blinked open, pinning him with accusation. "S'not safe. Have to leave."

Dean returned to Sam's side, touching his brother's shoulder. Pushing him back down. "We will, Sam. I'm going to get the laptop and then we're going to figure out what your vision was about. Okay?"

Sam frowned but nodded his head yes, wincing at the motion. "S'pose it's okay."

His brother was groggy but Dean could tell the pain was clearing in the way Sam melted into the too soft surface. His words might be a little slurred but he wasn't doing that panicky rambling thing he'd done after his vision. Sam was all about control and when he lost it like that, Dean knew something was deeply wrong. Although if Dean had a vision about Sam turning into a s'more then he'd lose it, too. Of course anything that wanted to get its hands on Sam would have to go through Dean first. Dean had meant it when he said nothing bad was going to happen to Sam while he was around.

Dean hustled out the door, heading for the Impala. Before they went anywhere he was going to have to dig around under the hood and see what was up with his Chevy. The engine had misfired too often to ignore, the hesitation getting under Dean's skin as much as the fire they'd been stuck watching. He was pretty sure some new spark plugs would do the trick but until he had a chance to get in there and poke around, he wasn't sure what he'd find.

Sam came first.

Dean was reaching into the backseat when he heard something whistling through the air. For a moment he thought it was a missile but he was in Ohio, not some war-torn country. Whirling around, he searched the sky. A streak of blue impacted with the roof of the motel and the queasy feeling in Dean's stomach—the same queasy feeling that had been there since he heard the thump on the bathroom wall—intensified like a lit match to gasoline.

The same instincts that had four-year-old Dean stumbling out of bed to carry his baby brother out of the house the night Sam's nursery had gone up in flames were alive and thrumming through Dean's body now; Sam was in trouble and he needed Dean.

It took seconds to sprint back to the motel room but those were some of the longest seconds of Dean's life. Barreling through the door he found a wall of fire barricading him from the bed Sam had been lying on. It was hard to see past the flames jetting straight up from the floor to the ceiling but he could see Sam was still on the bed.

Sam was still on his back, pushing clumsily at some flames licking too close to his face. It was a wonder the whole bed wasn't ablaze.

Dean charged forward and ran headlong into a bank of suffocating heat.

It stopped him in his tracks.

Shit, the flames were blanketing Sam's body although his brother wasn't acting like he was on fire. No writhing or screaming or scorched skin smell.

Cold sweat collected on Dean's neck despite the raging inferno in the room. He had to get to Sam. He took another step forward and his efforts were blocked again. Almost like the fire was playing with him.

It didn't matter. Sam needed to get the hell off of the bed and they needed to get out. If he couldn't get to Sam then Sam would have to come to him.

"Sam! Sammy!!!"

Between caught glimpses of Sam between the dancing flames. Sam bolted upright at the sound of Dean's voice, automatically turning toward him.

"Deannnnnn!"

TBC

A/N: I'd also like to take a moment to encourage you to go to my profile page and read about the new project I'm involved with--it's a Virtual Season (22 episodes) that resumes after the end of All Hell Breaks Loose Part I. That's right, after Sam dies in Dean's arms. An especially good episode (episode 9), Beyond This Illusion, written by the very talented Bayre just concluded. I hope you'll check it out.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Sam is beset by visions and Dean can't help but worry over his brother. Featuring a little h/c along with a hunt that literally lands on their doorstep. S1, post Nightmare.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story I put together for my very talented friend Bayre on the occasion of her birthday. Beta provided by Gidgetgal9 – thanks girlfriend.

Double Vision

Part Two

Before Dean could yell out instructions, Sam was hurtling off of the bed, crashing through the inferno, barreling into Dean.

Sam's adrenaline rush seemed to die upon contact and he wilted against Dean. Dean wasn't stupid, he knew they should get low to the floor, but Sam was a heavy weight curled against his chest and he wasn't going to get anywhere under his own power. The smoke and heat were more intense the higher up but they were in a game of beat the clock so Dean went with the fireman's carry.

Dean grabbed the slack right wrist and pulled Sam's right arm across his own shoulder. Reaching between Sam's legs, Dean grasped Sam behind his right thigh. Using the strength in his sturdy legs, Dean lifted Sam off of the floor, letting his brother's limp weight carry the inert body over his shoulder.

Dean pivoted and broke into a jog; Sam's left arm and leg dangled behind Dean's back, smacking him with each heavy step. He burst into the fresh air, his lungs hacking harshly against the thick smoke. People were milling about and a siren could be heard in the distance. Dean avoided the people and walked to the Chevy which seemed to be far away enough from the fire, at least for now.

Bending at the waist, Dean maneuvered Sam down until one foot touched the ground. Relief coursed through him as Sam took up his own weight, sliding off Dean's shoulder, bracing himself against Dean's body. Sam's legs wobbled and Dean guided him back against the car, controlling his slide until he was sitting on the asphalt, leaning against the passenger door.

Dean's coughs had tapered to sporadic barks but Sam was hacking so hard, tears ran down his soot stained face and his body convulsed against the car. Dean kneeled next to him, a hand at the back of his neck, soothing Dean with the contact as much as it soothed Sam.

Sam could have died. Sam had almost died.

So much for Sam's visions being right on target. He must've muttered that aloud because Sam turned his head, glaring. Between wheezes, Sam harshly defended his new found gift. "That was…my vision…exactly…"

Patting Sam on the leg, Dean frowned. "Fine. You've still got your mojo. But a little less talking until you can breathe without sounding like one of Marge Simpson's chain-smoking sisters."

Sam soon settled down; his cough lingered but it was delivered with a little less gusto and came with less frequency. The sirens were pulling into the parking lot and chaos broke out. A firefighter, complete with fire retardant uniform, shepherded them away from the car. Dean shook off the helpful man's hand, pulling Sam to his feet, steering him to the ambulance.

Dean refused to be separated from Sam's side and wouldn't allow the earnest young man with a stethoscope to listen to his lungs until he knew Sam was okay. "Sir, please."

"Not until I know Sam is okay." Dean injected as much of his dad's steely voice into his words as he could muster and wasn't surprised when the man backed off.

Sam was all Dean had left and he was going to be hyper-vigilant in protecting him.

-0-

Sam managed a smile through the oxygen mask as Dean put the paramedic in his place. The effects of the vision—both the visceral in the form of mind numbing pain and those from the fire—were passing so Sam could smile again. Watching Dean intimidate the people around him with his fierce face and manner shouldn't have been amusing but it meant the world to Sam.

Dean had always looked out for Sam but even now that he was an adult—an independent, competent one at that—it still meant everything to know Dean was at his side. Dean wouldn't abandon him.

And they were both alive, having escaped the fire.

The fire that wasn't an ordinary fire.

Sam lost some time, blinking into awareness when a shadow blocked the warmth of the sun from his face. Dean stared down at him, surly sense of humor still intact. "Gage and DeSoto are itching to take you to the hospital. You wanna try out their spiffy ride?"

Dean might sound cavalier but Sam knew it hid his worry. Sam didn't want to add to his burden. Peeling off the oxygen mask, Sam sat up. He wasn't dizzy, he wasn't coughing and only a dull throb remained from his earlier blurred-vision inducing headache. "I think I'll pass."

Dean helped him to his feet, tugging him toward the car. The finish was dull, streaked with wet ash. Sam winced when he thought of Dean's reaction about his car suffering such abuse. The wince was misinterpreted, Dean manhandling him into the passenger seat, slamming the door in a rush of activity. Sam didn't protest; Dean wouldn't listen, at least not until they were away from the scorched scene of their former motel room. Until he knew Sam was really okay.

Someone was yelling, telling them to stop, but Dean ignored them. Sam concentrated on staying awake, unwilling to spark Dean's worry if he drifted off. He knew Dean well; he wouldn't be allowed out of his brother's sight for the next couple of days, maybe longer. Only by reassuring Dean he was fine, staying glued by his side, and not arguing against Dean's instincts, would Sam gain a measure of independence again.

It was worth it. Dean's peace of mind was worth it.

He stifled a yawn and Dean shot him a look. Maybe Sam would appear more alert if he actually talked coherently. "So my vision was of you being trapped behind a wall of fire, screaming my name, and I was unable to get to you."

"But I wasn't trapped by the fire; that was you." Dean huffed as they rumbled down the road.

"From my vantage point, you were the one behind the fire." Dean harrumphed but conceded the point. "But we kinda have a bigger problem—I think the fire was some sort of supernatural entity."

Dean nodded his head in agreement as they pulled into the parking lot of the Comfort Inn they'd passed up their first trip down this stretch of road. His brother was taking his words in stride which was a bit of a surprise. Then again, maybe Dean wasn't taking things in stride. "What makes _you_ say that? I mean I saw it shoot through the air and land on the roof. I think it sought you out, I'm not sure why, and when I tried to get near you, it blocked my way."

Sam had been somewhere between awake and dozing when Dean had left the room but his eyes had snapped open when intense heat fluttered over his face. He'd opened his eyes to find a murky blue face hovering over him—a face forming out of the very fire raging around him. Dean wasn't going to be happy at that bit of news. "I saw a face. In the fire. A blue face. I think it was trying to communicate with me."

His brother jerked the car into park, turning to face Sam slowly. Rigid control. Like he was trying to keep from smacking Sam. "Number one, why do you think it was trying to communicate with you? And number two, when the hell were you going to mention this? That's like the lead story, it's supposed to appear above the fold of the newspaper, not buried five pages in."

Sam hadn't been thinking clearly in the aftermath of the fire and his lungs, determined to cough up every last piece of soot, had prevented him from talking. That and he didn't want to be the freak in his brother's eyes. Not again. He might not be able to bend spoons with his mind but there was no ignoring the fact that he had some sort of precognition. Or that Max, another kid whose mom had burned on the nursery ceiling, had displayed telekinesis.

Things kept getting stranger and all Sam had ever wanted to be was normal. The little voice in his head snarled _suck it up, buttercup_ and Sam let the silence outside of his head stretch on. There was nothing he could really say to Dean to make the situation better so he just shut up.

The silence was broken by another yawn, this one almost unhinging his jaw. Dean thrust a hand through his sandy blond hair, rumpling it into spikes. "Stay here. I'll get us a room and we'll try this again."

Sam meekly nodded his consent. This was the part he disliked but it was necessary—he needed to let Dean call the shots for a while otherwise his life would be sheer hell for the foreseeable future with the two of them constantly butting heads.

-0-

Dean knew he was being a bully but Sam needed someone to ride herd on him. His little brother was the smartest person he knew but no one could get into trouble faster than Sammy. At least Sam hadn't argued when Dean had told him to take a quick shower and then take a nap.

The object of his thoughts was curled on his side, facing toward Dean, buried beneath the green comforter. What was it with motels and their green decorating schemes? More importantly, why had Sam been attacked by fire?

Dean turned his attention back to the laptop, his fingers clicking on the keys the only sound beside Sam's soft breathing in the room. He hit link after link, frustrated that he couldn't find any lore on fire stalkers or whatever you wanted to call them. His dad had never come up against anything like this; at least it wasn't mentioned in his journal.

Pulling up Dogpile, Dean typed in _fire imp_ on a lark and hit the Go Fetch button. He got a bunch of results that appeared to be connected to a video game or something but one site looked like it could be legit. He clicked on the link and read about an obscure Romanian folktale that involved a witch—oh, joy—and its weapon of choice, a fire elemental called forth to rain destruction on the witch's enemy.

Wracking his brain, Dean tried to remember if they'd crossed paths with a witch. He'd met some women who had the disposition to be witches but nothing stood out.

Dean turned his attention from the screen to check on Sam.

Something glowed next to Sam's face. It looked like embers, smoldering, cuddled up to Sam's exposed cheek.

Dean's hand slid into the bag at his feet and withdrew a bottle of holy water. It was water which worked on most fires and had the benefit of being blessed. Win-win. Dean jumped to his feet, his chair clattering over, throwing the contents of the bottle on top of the glowing substance.

The light winked out and the holy water coated Sam's face, his brother's eyes snapping open followed by his body jerking upright. "What was that for?"

His brother looked all of ten with his hair sticking out in all directions, the holy water matting his eyelashes together and the frown pulling his lips into a full-on pout. His tone of voice matched his looks, sleep-interrupted irritation.

The mild amusement over his brother's response to his rude awakening faded quickly. A nervous tick took up residency in Dean's left eyelid. While Sam had been innocently sleeping, under Dean's protection, something dangerous had approached his brother.

Before he could explain about the fire imp or whatever was in the room, Sam clutched his head and yelped.

-0-

Sam had woken up abruptly when something wet splashed his face. Dean was a few steps away, a small bottle in his hand. The kind of bottle they used to collect holy water. It explained how he got wet but not the why. "What was that for?"

His irritation disappeared in the face of Dean's solemn expression. Before Dean had a chance to explain his holy water baptism, a sharp pain burrowed behind Sam's eyes.

Another vision.

He might have moaned in distress but that's all he had time for before his inner eye focused on something else.

_Blistering heat made the sweat pop out on his face. "What is it you want me to do?"_

_The blue fire leapt across the surface of the bed. It pulled into the shape of lips and when those lips opened, the air filled with hissing. "Tired. Need to end. You special. Help me. Destroy me. Like destroy demon."_

_The hissing turned to crackling and the heat ratcheted up a notch, blue flaring in all directions._

"Sam, damn it, not again. Don't do this. Sammy?"

Sam forced his sticky eyelids up, expecting to find Dean hovering over him. Instead he found warmth at his back, hands folded over his chest, holding him upright. Sam let his head fall backward, felt it thud against Dean's shoulder. His brother shifted him to the side, cradling his head in the crook of his arm.

It should've been humiliating, Sam couldn't even hold his head up, but he ignored that pang, instead taking comfort in having Dean near. "What did you see?"

Lifting a weak and trembling arm, Sam scrubbed ineffectually at his still damp face. Dean batted his hand away and a cotton sleeve replaced it, mopping up the residue left by the holy water. The touch was gentle but Dean was radiating frustration and fear in equal measures and Sam couldn't ignore that. "I think the fire entity is somehow linked to the demons and it wants to be destroyed."

Dean's voice rumbled next to his ear. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it said 'Destroy me…like destroy demon." Sam didn't mention the bit about the entity thinking Sam was special. He didn't want to waste time on the self pity or possible explanations behind the statement when they needed to get rid of the fire before someone—namely one of them—ended up crispy, well-done.

Dean huffed in either irritation or amusement, the puff of air pushing Sam's bangs into his face. Before Sam could lift his hand and push the strands away, Dean's hand was there. "I guess there's no mistaking the meaning. So you thinking exorcism?"

There was work to be done so Sam pushed away from the comfort Dean provided. For all his talk of being macho and against chick-flicks, Dean was pretty much a marshmallow. At least when it came to Sam. The trick was to keep Dean from becoming a toasted marshmallow.

"Exorcism. Do you have more holy water in your arsenal or did you drench me with all of it?" Sam tried for humor but it came out sulky. At least it made Dean laugh.

He found himself dumped on his side when Dean shoved away from the headboard and slid off the bed. "I've got more holy water. You good with the Latin or do you want me to take care of this?"

Sam was shaky but he wanted this done. He knew Dean could take care of it on his own but they were in this together. Sam also felt guilty because he'd seemed to play some part in attracting the thing's attention in the first place.

They'd do this. Then he wanted some protein and a deep sleep. "Let's do it."

-0-

The exorcism had gone off without a hitch. The little flame had even seemed to wave at them before disappearing in a plume of black smoke.

A wave of protectiveness flooded Dean when he turned to find Sam in his sleep-pants and t-shirt, fisting his tired eyes. Sam was a highly competent hunter with a geeky brain and a big physique yet he managed to look as threatening as a toddler searching for his missing teddy bear. "Why don't you get some shut eye?"

The frown was fierce, the eyebrows pointing down and inward like some cartoon character. "I'm hungry."

If Dean took Sam out for something to eat, he'd plant his face in the main course as soon as it was served. The kid was beyond tired, weaving on his feet. And cranky.

Kid. Sam wasn't a kid. It was hard to remember sometimes but it was a fact; Sam took his nifty little parlor tricks in stride and didn't dissolve in a puddle when threatened with the likes of a fire demon. Sam had also made a life for himself at Stanford—as a self sufficient adult—and didn't need Dean hovering over him like some demented hen clucking over its chicks.

"How about I bring something back? I'll call our order in to the restaurant across the street, grab it and be back before you know it." Dean gritted his jaws when he said he'd leave Sam alone, unprotected, but he was trying to loosen up his hold.

Sam's tired eyes widened. "You mean I can stay here? Alone?"

A smile broke out over Sam's face. It wasn't too large or toothy but it was a natural smile that even reached those large tilted eyes.

There was the proof, in Sam's smile, that Dean needed to ease up. Clutching at Sam before, holding him too close, had only made him feel smothered and he'd fled to California. Away from his family. Away from Dean.

Dean grabbed the telephone book from the desk and paged through until he found the restaurant he'd seen on their way in. He also needed to look under the Chevy's hood and figure out if the Impala needed new sparkplugs or something else.

But that would have to wait. First he'd see to Sam.

Just like always.

Finis


End file.
